9 #2
Fallon’s eyes are now on the toes of her boots, the tips of her ears pink. She stopped taking lessons from Wyatt two months ago. He’s been bitching about it ever since she went MIA from the ranch.
It’s bad enough I have Dakota to worry about. Now I have to worry about what’s running Fallon wild.
“Davis has a job, the ranch,” Dakota begins. “He can’t—”
“I can,” I say. “It’s the off-season. Charlie and Ford can handle the ranch. I’ll park myself at the station. It’s right across the street.”
I don’t like her being out in the open, but she’s right. She can’t stay on the ranch forever. If I can give her some normalcy, even for a moment, I’ll do it.
Dakota’s lower lip sticks out in a pout. She hates the idea. I can see it on her face. Finally, she relents and smiles at Stede. “Sounds like a plan, Daddy.”
“I’m happy to hear that, baby girl.” He takes a brisk step forward, then turns to amble toward the elevator. “You two are both adults. Figure out what problems you got because I won’t be around forever.”
“Fine. Here.” Fallon shoves a ring of keys at Dakota. When Stede’s out of earshot, she hisses, “Fix your fucking face before you come in.”
Dakota stands frozen, hands gripping the keys. She blinks back tears as she turns on her heel and rushes out of the lobby.
“Nice fucking work,” I growl, glaring at Fallon.
“Fuck you, Davis.” She flips me off on the way to the elevator.
I swear under my breath and follow after Dakota.
These sisters are going to be the death of me.
A pregnant Dakota in tears has my blood pressure skyrocketing.
I catch her as she’s crossing onto Main Street. The bright blue sky of the winter afternoon is fading. It’ll be dark in less than four hours.
“Your sister’s a pain in my ass,” I tell her dryly.
She keeps trudging ahead, hand in her pocket. “I can’t be sure she isn’t a feral gremlin with attitude issues.”
I smile. But it soon fades after I inspect Dakota’s face. She looks like she’s hanging on by her last thread.
“You okay?”
I immediately curse myself. It’s the dumbest thing I can ask. No, she’s not okay, Montgomery. Around Dakota, a word, a touch—it all comes out wrong.
“No.” She stops abruptly and leans back to look at me. Tears stream down her face. “I’m not.”
On instinct, I grab her shoulders and she huddles into my chest. Warm. Soft. Shaking.
“Lunch,” I order, and she lifts her face. Even with the dark smudges beneath her eyes, she’s too beautiful for words. “You hungry?”
She sniffles. “I’m always hungry.”
“Let’s go.” Keeping an arm around her slender shoulders, I steer her toward a red-bricked building at the end of the block.
She hesitates, stopping when we get to the front door.
“What happened to the bakery?” she asks, staring up at the sign that reads the Little Star Diner.
“Went out of business last year. This place is new. No one knows you,” I promise her.
My mind’s laser-focused on what she told me two days ago when I brought her home. She wants to be on the down low, that’s what I’ll do.
She smiles. “Thank you.”
We step inside the diner and claim a booth by the window. I slide my gaze over the small restaurant, taking in the entry points and exits. Dakota grips the tabletop like it’s keeping her steady as she looks around at the walls decorated with old Coca-Cola tin trays.
“How are you feelin’?” I ask gruffly. Nothing makes me more awkward than trying to comfort someone. I have brothers. They get hurt, and I tell them to suck it up and shake it off. But then there’s Dakota…
The only person in the world who breaks down my walls.
She leans an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. “How am I feeling? About the fact that my sister wants to kill me, or about the fact that I have a ticking time bomb in my stomach and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Fallon first,” I order.
“She’s mad at me.”
I grunt. “She shouldn’t have said what she said.”
Dakota shakes her dark head. “I don’t blame her. I left her here.” She picks at the Formica tabletop. Guilt edges her voice. “I didn’t know she was still working at the store.”
“It’s a lot for her,” I say lowly. “She’s struggling to take care of the store and then get out on the rodeo.”
Even though I’m pissed at Fallon for treating Dakota like shit, that girl’s been working her ass off. Keep the store alive. Keep Stede alive. Keep her career alive. It can’t be easy.
“She’s right about what she said about my face.” Dakota waves a hand around her black eye, the cut on her lip. “I can’t go to work until this is gone. Everyone in town will talk if I mosey into The Corner Store looking like Mike Tyson.”
Her words hang heavy in the air.
“No one can find out what happened to me, okay?” Her voice cracks. “I mean it, Davis, They can’t.”
Red stains her cheeks. And it hits me sudden and quick—she’s ashamed.
“They won’t, okay?” I exhale. A muscle jerks in my jaw. It feels like there’s a fire growing between my ribs. “Cupcake, no one will ever know.” Anyone says an unkind word about her, I’ll hunt them down. I’ll fix this. She can’t stop me.
A waitress appears to take our order and Dakota keeps her head down, long dark hair shielding her face as we both order burgers and fries.
“The baby?” I ask when the waitress leaves. The words chew up my throat like glass. “How did everything at the doctor go?”
Dakota looks pale and fragile. And then everything pent up from her visit at the doctor’s explodes out of her.
“Everything went fucked , Davis. I have a baby inside of me. I don’t know if I’m going to love it.
Or be a good mother. Everything—my entire life—is unplanned.
” A shudder of a breath rocks her frame.
“Babies have schedules. I don’t know what timelines to follow or what bottles to buy.
All I want to do is eat. I cry all the time.
My breasts are huge. I don’t have any bras.
And I’m…” Her brown eyes flick to mine, drop to her hands.
“What?” I ask, feeling desperate and uncomfortable. The mention of Dakota’s breasts sends a rush of blood to my dick and I fight to keep a straight face.
“Nothing.” She takes a sip of her water. “I’m trying to survive the now . I don’t have the bandwidth to plan months ahead.”
“And that’s okay. You have time.” I think about what she said earlier. “Eighteen weeks, that’s…”
“Almost five months.” She sighs. “Here.”
She takes something out of her purse and smooths it on the countertop between us. After a closer look, it’s a photo. A black and white blur.
She laughs bitterly. “That’s my baby. And I can’t even look at it. I don’t even want to know the gender. I don’t even want to feel my baby move. Because that means it’s real. It’s happening. Isn’t that awful?”
I take the photo and run my fingers run along the image, picking out a spine, tiny toes, a round head. A muscle in my jaw moves over and over again. The idea of Dakota having someone else’s child stings, but I’ll deal with it because it’s bigger than me and my fucking feelings.
“It’s not awful,” I finally say. “You’re going to be a good mother, Dakota.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
How can she not see what a good mother she’ll be? She’s a fighter, she loves hard, and she’s loyal to the core. She gives peace to everyone who meets her.
Her child will be lucky to have her. And if he or she forgets, I’ll be around to remind him.
“What if I’m having a monster’s baby?”
“Never.” I shake my head. “You’re gonna look at that baby and not see a speck of him . Because it’s going to be all of you, Dakota.”
She rubs her eyes. “I don’t know, Davis. I was so optimistic things in my life would work out. I feel like a failure.” Defeat and sadness wash over her face. “I’m not brave, and I’m not strong. I’m not sure I ever was.”
Fuck, do I feel that.
I lean forward and take her hand. Dakota stiffens, but her eyes grow soft. “Bravery is being scared and doing it anyway,” I say. “You don’t have to feel strong. You’re allowed to not want this, to be fucking pissed off and sad. But I see you, Koty. And I won’t let you fall.”
Dakota bites her lip, her eyes wide. “You won’t?”
“No. I won’t.” I squeeze her hand. “Your baby’s in there and safe. Now we worry about you. Back on your feet, right?”
She smiles. And damn, she’s stunning.
“Right.” Dakota whisks her thumb over my knuckle and I fight to keep my face stoic as an unexpected current of electricity slices up my arm.
The waitress drops off the food, and Dakota twists her hand out of mine. The loss of her touch has me fighting to catch my breath.
I take one last long glance and slide the sonogram photo back toward her. “Here.”
“No. I don’t want it back.” She bites her lip. “Give it to me when I’m ready, okay?”
My chest constricts, but I slip the photo into my pocket.
Dakota takes a deep breath and spears her pickle. “Speaking of mothers… I found mine, you know.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “No, I didn’t. Shit.”
“She’s a dealer in Vegas.” Dakota laughs bitterly. “I ran into her when I was there for a food and wine festival. She left us all those years ago, and that’s where she landed. Dealing cards in some shitty casino. She didn’t recognize me, and when I told her who I was, it was like one big shrug.”
“Fallon know?”
“No.” She picks at the corner of her burger. “Just another thing she’ll blame me for.”
“Dakota,” I warn. “You didn’t make her leave. And you’ll do better than your mother did.”
She makes a brief hum of consideration, pops a fry in her mouth, and chews. When she’s finished, she says, “You’re pretty smart for a man of few grunting words.”
I chuckle at that.
“I just…” Straightening in the booth, she presses a palm to the heel of her damp eyes. “I have to get it together. For my baby.”
“You will. And until then, you’re not alone. Do you hear me?”
Her brow wrinkles in that adorable way of hers.
A wrinkled brow means Dakota’s beautiful brain is working.
So fucking smart. Always a recipe running through there, a kind word for someone, a witty remark.
Keeps me on my fucking toes. I’ve always loved that about her.
Her big dreams. Her beautiful brain. A reminder that Dakota McGraw is made for great things. Better things than me.
I spent the last six years torturing myself over not asking her to stay. And now she’s back. In front of me like I can have her.
But I can’t.
She’s not staying permanently in Resurrection. She’ll heal, like the warrior she is, and go off to chase her dreams. She’s meant for the big city, for new adventures. I have a ranch, my brothers.
Dakota is a job. Keep her safe. Keep my distance.
Her faraway gaze drifts to the window. “What if I’m never safe?”
“You will be safe. Sure as my word, Dakota, I’ll protect you. It’s my job.”
Some of the light dies in her eyes as she looks back at me. “You’re such a good guy,” she muses, almost sadly.
“Which means…your number, Cupcake.” I pull out my phone. A grin tilts my lips. “Gonna need you to unblock me.”
She flushes.
“I’m so sorry I blocked you,” she admits in one long rush. “You have to know I never meant to freeze you out. I couldn’t risk him finding out about you.”
My breath stops. The thought never crossed my mind that someone told her to cut off our contact. That she was afraid. That she was protecting herself.
Her long lashes flutter. “It was the same with your dog tag.”
“You wore it,” I choke out. Unable to help it, my cock swells, and I grip the table.
“I always did,” she says, breathlessly. Her darkened gaze lingers on mine. “I never took it off. Until I met A—him.”
Damn, but I almost caught her there. The Marine in me wants to pry the name out of her. But she needs to open up on her own time. Even if it is slowly killing me.
Say his name, baby. Say his name and let me kill him.
She fingers the chain, dulled by time. The look on her face says she’s far away, reliving the past. “He was so jealous, so angry it was from another man. He hated it. I had to lock it up. Hide it away, so he wouldn’t—” A tiny cry escapes her mouth.
She presses fingertips to her lips to smother the sound.
“Koty,” I warn, leaning in. Rage floods my system. I close my eyes, dangerously close to losing it. When I find that fucker, every bone in his body will be dust.
“Why didn’t you call me?” The question wrenches from my lips. A question I’ve ached to ask, but dread the answer.
She’s quiet for a long minute. “I didn’t call you because I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to know.”
It makes sense. To Dakota, losing control, admitting weakness, is her worst nightmare.
I lean in, pinning my gaze to hers. A growl rumbles up from my chest. “Trust me, Dakota, had I known, I would have come for you. And there would have been nothing keeping me from tearing him apart.”
“I know,” she whispers, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Her lower lip trembles. “That’s what scared me.”
Her hand’s back in mine. Touching her is my kryptonite.
Dakota’s face pokers up. She exhales a long breath and shakes her dark head. “No more questions, Davis. I have to focus on moving forward. Not back.”
I grip my water glass with white-knuckled hands.
Back. Something we can never do.